Oh, sir, I've gone and done it, yes, sir, please.
Nancy nagged at me until I fought an automobile.
It come one day last week, and Nancy hadn't been a-stickled over anything since
her crazy quilt took a prize at the county fair, as she was over that joy wagon.
Well, sir, I felt it in my bones.
I'd make a fool of myself or soon would, so next day I built it full of gasoline
and got all ready to take Nancy, Jim Rawson, and Elgar Horsons out for a ride.
I got out the book of rules, and the more I read it, the less I knew about the
energy that turned me keen.
Ha-ha-ha-ha!
Jim said I had to turn the crank to shoot it off.
I turned that crank until my eyes bulged out, but it wouldn't budge.
Nancy said the bobbin was wound too tight or else the
shuttle was straighted wrong.
By that time, all pumpkin center was there, and even it was.
Like Willie said, I ought to talk kindly to it and offer some oaks.
Hank Weaver said I ought to lead it around for spare until it got to know me, and
Si Bittengill said maybe I hadn't watered it yet, and speaking with it, soon
wanted to offer prayer.
Well, sir, I grabbed hold of that crank again, and it flew back and hit me on the
scenes, and I shot right down in the yard to think it over.
And Nancy said the language I used was just as simple.
Just same Jim Rawson said, don't this club go in somewhere?
We found where it went, and I turned the crank again, and the darn machine began
to rear and snark.
It ran over Hank Weaver's dog, tore a hole through Willie's picket fence, knocked
over Si Bittengill's beehive, and kept right on going.
Ha-ha-ha! Well, sir, I worked every lever that machine had, and
everyone made it go faster.
Ha-ha-ha! Nancy was a-screaming.
Ezra Hoskins was a-praying, and it wouldn't be right to tell what Jim Rawson was
a-doing, but Nancy said he sounded like he was talking to the Lord.
Ha-ha-ha! Just then we went through Abwhittaker's wheat field
and saw it on fire.
It tore down the toll gate, ripped down one side of the covered wheat, then
started off to give pictures [... ] and peel four sheep in a cap, and then run
into a haystack and blowed up. Ha-ha-ha!
All I got to show for that joyride is a broken leg, six lawsuits, and
a mortgage on the farm.
Nancy said if we ever own another one, we'll have a regular chiffonie to run it.
I ain't saying much, but I got a lingering suspicion that all my joyriding will
be done on the old buck-bored wagon.
Ha-ha-ha!